


Any trick in the book now, baby

by comradeocean



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, M/M, comic nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comradeocean/pseuds/comradeocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry tries to get into comic books to impress Zayn and Liam but his hipster friends recommend him shit like <i>Tamara Drewe</i> or <i>Jimmy Corrigan</i> or heaven forbid the <i>Persepolis</i> + <i>Maus</i> double whammy, so he decides he might as well bone up on <i>The Vice guide to Pop Art and Genocide</i> (i.e. scrolling down to find appropriately punny snapshots before striking gold in the pages after pages of Warhol ripoffs. Maostagram vs Maustagram!).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any trick in the book now, baby

**Author's Note:**

> squishy smushy comedic angsty misunderstanding fluff inspired by this [picture](http://media.tumblr.com/4f4086e02b1897b6cf23986d9df9fb2c/tumblr_inline_movde1WMOD1qz4rgp.jpg) and this comment:
> 
> "harry is just thinking of all the degrading things he’s let zayn do to him and he couldn’t even get a bloody rose for his efforts. nothing’s fine. he’s torn.
> 
> harry will talk to niall about it when they’re the only ones up on the bus, sniffling about this boy he’s been messing about with who just won’t love him back. and niall’s like ‘i told you not to fuck, zayn.’ while rubbing harry’s back sympathetically and harry’s all ‘…howd you know :(‘
> 
> and niall just looks at harry incredulously." ([x](http://onedanon.livejournal.com/11721.html?thread=47338697#t47338697))
> 
> Massive thank yous to threeturn for being an incredible beta and lazy-daze for the super helpful britpicking. =D

Harry tries to get into comic books to impress Zayn and Liam but his hipster friends recommend him shit like _Tamara Drewe_ or _Jimmy Corrigan_ or heaven forbid the _Persepolis_ \+ _Maus_ double whammy, so he decides he might as well also bone up on the Vice guide to Pop Art and Genocide (i.e. scrolling down to find appropriately punny snapshots before striking gold in the pages after pages of Warhol ripoffs. Maostagram vs Maustagram!).

Mission accomplished, he waits until the next time Liam and Zayn are babbling about x-canny Uverse or whatever and parachutes himself into Liam's lap.

"I really love the _[pause]_ like visual possibilities through which like _[pause]_ they address _[pause]_ Wolverine's like _[pause pause]_ difficult home life." As good an opening as any other, right?

Except then it's all  
"NAAARGH?! Oi, OI STYLES! Gerroff! You're messing the pages. GERROFF ME."  
"Heeyyyy, be nice. Tell him Zayn."  
"Tell him yourself." But then Zayn's eyes narrow. "Hold on, bro, you don't even like comics."  
"Of course I do. I loooove comics. Comics, yeaaaaah!" And Harry's got his fist pumped in the air looking around, but it's just them, just the tour bus.

Sometimes it's hard to transition from being in front of 5 600 people, every one of them always ready to cheer on every syllable you say, - to these, these, beastly bandmates who are his so-called "best friends cum brothers cum family relations so intense and complicated that the accurate honorifics haven't been coined yet in English."

Bandmates who are now rolling their eyes together and sniggering in concert. If this level of synchronicity had been present during bootcamp choreo, they would've - actually Harry's not sure what they would've, or why it even entirely matters so much. But Louis is always on their case about being grounded and thankful and _we all would've had to_ \- this is usually the point Harry zones out for a while, grunting occasionally lest the rest of them think he's not taking it serious enough (but really, it couldn't have gone too poorly, could it? training to be a solicitor doesn't seem half bad; could probably even squeeze in some DJing on weekends), until Louis gets to the waving arms bit - _Shut your diva face, we're just five knobheads who got proper lucky. Are you looking to be Pete Doherty? Or the guy from Five who went mental that no one even remembers?_ That part makes more sense and sobers him up straightaway. 

Anyway, he should be grateful for Louis's speeches because if nothing else, reciting the whole groundedness thing bagged him permission for quite the few trips to see mates in Leeds with barely a peep from Pablo - Speaking of which, he should probably text Sophie to ask about her end of terms.

He's tapping the second to last _e_ of his customary greeting when someone - probably Zayn, judging by the extra sting in the follow-through - thwacks him on the ear with a rolled up comic book.

"Owwwwwww!"  
"Earth to spaceboy. You gonna listen to what I'm asking or what?"  
"What?" Which earns him another thwack, on the other ear. And then Zayn's gripping the back of his neck with both hands which is kind of nice but Liam's also poking his ribs now which is definitely not.

Zayn gives his neck an extra squeeze with each word, "In Not Harry-Land, I was asking you - "  
"I _and Liam_ were asking you - " Liam interrupts.  
"- Liam, bro, listen, chill."  
Liam sighs and goes back to flipping through the comic.  
"Me _and Liam_ ,” Zayn continues, “were saying you can't possibly love comics if you don't even have a favourite superhero."

Harry lifts his eyebrows, widens his eyes, then juts out his lower lip in position for Operation Full Pout Trifecta, but Zayn holds up his hand - the _Zap!_ arm in fact, Harry can't help but notice - and pronounces, "But then I - _me and Liam_ \- thought you might as well get a fair shake. It's been awhile since the MTV interview - "  
"Water in the bridge," interjects Liam.  
"Water under the bridge, and now you have 45 seconds to name, describe, and most vitally, explain the connexion between your favourite superhero and your - " someone coughs and Harry can't tell which of the two sadistic bastards it was "luuuuuurve for comics."

Harry takes a deep breath. He has this covered; all those hours of skimming AV Club's _Gateway to Geekery_ might pay off after all. "Uhh, so, Superman -"

He doesn't even get to finish the first clause of his first sentence of what he is certain will be a groundbreaking thesis that changes forever how comic books are to be understood by these two geek bandmates of his - not cool IT crowd singer playwright filmmaker producer geek; geek like anorak geek, the kind of geek in the same calibre of insult as chlamydia boy, because yeah, all of his carefully prepared brilliance is being sidelined as he's bombarded from all sides with pillows, stray pieces of underwear, and even wadded up balls of torn-out pages from a comic book.

"FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF!" And he's adding to the explosion of pillows, cushions, the odd boxer brief. Which doesn't help at all because Louis and Niall come running in, for the commotion came with it the promise of a full bus brawl, an opportunity that hasn't been made available to them for at least a week and a half.

Harry tries to make himself heard above the din. "So you suffered that belt buckle for fashion then? Any sacrifice to make the GQ top ten.” He pivots and casts an accusing finger at Liam. “And as if Liam’s an expert. He likes _The Dark Knight_ for fuck sake." 

They’re both shouting at him now but Zayn's left eyebrow’s twitching and Harry zeroes in on him, "Ha! I knew it!” and starts pacing back and forth. “I overheard you skyping with Ant and you think, and I quote, ' _Nolan is overblown fake shite and people only think his films are hard because of the shit lighting._ ' End quote." Harry pauses for a breath.

"And how can you even call yourself fans if you're destroying the very pieces of literature you're 'sposed to be fans of?” Harry disapprovingly picks out from his hair crumpled wads of what appeared to have been a panel of Storm mid-flight and shoves it in front of their stupid geeky faces. “How serious can you actually be?" A much slower sadder drawl now. "It's like the real reason you won't talk Superman with me is none of you even want me around."

Anywhere else beyond this weird finicky bubble they live in, as boybanders with twenty metric tons of emotional baggage and faux-sibling not-faux-at-all rivalries, there'd be eyes welling up, handkerchiefs being discreetly pulled out. But here, everyone just stares at him unmoved, fucking robots the lot of them, except Niall and Louis also tiptoe away towards their bunks. 'Cause the thing about being a boyband-cum-accidental foster family members-cum-celebrity orphan hostages is you really gotta be careful in picking your battles.

Liam, on the other hand, approaches Harry in a crouch with one hand extended, as you might with a cat you've unintentionally pissed off. Harry toys with the idea of hissing at him and maybe a nip or two once he's within striking distance, but Liam's using his apologetically sensible voice, which puts him to sleep more than anything else, and alright, maybe the thought of cuddling up in a pile and reading comics together is placating enough to stand down.

So he clamps his mouth shut, and tucks his hands back in his jumper-sleeves where it was nice and cozy, but tries to simultaneously look like he's listening while keeping the stink-eye going because he's not so easy as to be fobbed off with hypothetical promises of cuddling, he's not, ok?

"First of all, we get four copies of everything. One each to keep in mint condition, and another two because Zayn likes to scrunch his up and dog ear them and, ugh, lick his finger to turn pages. I can assure you the chewed-up bits thrown at you are from his copy. Literature is safe with me."

Harry shrugs. He's never minded saliva; probably licks more people on purpose than the rest of the band and crew combined.

"Two. Zayn and I are aware of our differences regarding... certain franchises - " and there's a bit of a nervous thrum between the two of them, but maybe Harry's just projecting because he would love it if the Messrs Fated-Forever-To-Be-Comic-Book-Soulmates broke up in a spectacular Marvel versus DC fisticuff. “- But we've discussed it at length, and for the most part, it's been resolved." Liam and Zayn do this weird shoulder bump thing and wow, Harry hates them so much, this whole haptic communication bollocks. A high five or fist bump would have more than sufficed for normal people.

"And finally, I'm terribly sorry - "  
Zayn gives Liam a thwack.  
"Me _and Zayn_ are terribly sorry. We were rude and we apologize. So tell you what, Zayn's gonna find the popcorn - "  
Another thwack.  
"Ok, ok, I'm gonna find the popcorn, and we'll all have a proper sit down and listen to everything you have to say."

"Everything? No 45 second time limit?"

Zayn is quick to school his expression but Harry sees the brief moment of panic. Zayn recovers remarkably well though.  
"Harry, mate, we love you, yeah? And we're gonna love everything you say - " His tone hardening just the slightest "- About Superman and comic books and why you like 'em, alright?”

Harry wishes he doesn't concede so easily but before his brain's even fully thought it through, his legs are already bounding over, this time to Zayn's side of the couch. Fucking uncontrollable limbs. Maybe Louis wasn't taking the piss after all and he ought to get that checked out.

When the popcorn's ready, Harry settles in with his legs slung across Zayn's midsection, feet tucked under Liam's calf, and begins again. "So the thing about Superman is, he's such an ace representation of an outsider wanting to bring the inside out and the outside in, you know? With the flowing of justice?" Liam and Zayn are already groaning and throwing popcorn at him. But it's nice actually, because that's the kind of catch he likes to play - mouth open, food thrown, food in mouth. Also stray kernels in his hair and sticky toffee bits all over his nose and chin, but it is what it is. 

"No, seriously. It's important. Superman was created by two Jewish guys in America during the Great Depression and things were really shit then. And it's like, here's hope, to right wrongs in society. And that’s massively important, yeah?” Liam and Zayn each throw fistfuls of popcorn at him and chant in unison “Harrietta Styles! Miss Holmes Chapel 2013!”

Harry glares at them, _"Lissen t'wot I'm sayin' yeah?"_ and Zayn suddenly looks like he's ready to unleash the dirtiest roughest left hook he's capable of in the middle of the night after two straight weeks of tour bus bunking, but Harry plows on.

“Look, he’s fought the KKK, and Nazis, and blew up concentration camps - yeah those - and it was just guys stuck in an office somewhere, drawing.” They fall silent for a moment before Zayn quietly asks, “Were there people in your family in the war? like, in those -. I mean, you know. Is that why you’re picking Superman?“

Harry scratches his shoulder and tries to shrug, a real challenge given the way they’re all piled on top of each other. “It’s complicated, I guess.”

After a long while Zayn breaths out, "Yeah, same."

Then Harry's back into it, that seamless resumption thing he does whether it's conversations from 2 segues ago, or 3 months past. "And that's the thing I like about Superman too, other than all the super powers and fighting injustice stuff." He pauses. "I, uh, especially like how he almost never time travels."  
"Yeah?" Both Liam and Zayn turn to him with interest.  
"Yeah, 'cause it speaks to the intractable temporality of intergenerational trauma."

They upend the entire contents of the popcorn bowl over his head, then tries to shove his head in between two of the couch cushions, and fine, he probably deserved that one.

Later, when they're too tired out from two solid hours of boyband wrestling - How does that even happen? Harry's as rambunctiously affectionate as the next lad, but two hours? That don't even get boring? It's only when they realize Zayn's actually fallen asleep mid-lunge that they call it a night. Louis and Niall head back to their bunks but for whatever reason both he and Liam decide to keep Zayn company, not that he'll even notice, the oblivious lump of snuffles and snores that no one, Absolutely No One, finds the least bit endearing.

Just when he's about to fall asleep, Liam nudges his knee.  
"Hey."  
"Hey."  
"Shoulda told ya Superman was my favourite all through secondary school till just before the first X-Factor.”  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah. Sorry 'bout all that."  
Harry has the strangest urge to kiss Liam's funny squashed nose, but ends up giving it a light bop instead.  
"Night, Payner."  
"Night, Haz."

The next day Harry wanders over to Lou's hoping for a babysitting request which soon comes his way as she's hurrying out the door holding half a bagel and with a string of obscenities trailing in her wake: _fucking straighteners what in the bloody hell possessed them to think --_

Lux is pushing around Harry's hair in increasingly painful tugs that she promises will give him a look "just like me 'do" when he gets a text from Zayn.

_hey bro, dm me that link, yeah? the one about time vibes and shit aha :D x_

Harry falls back on the bed with a happy sigh, ignoring Lux's squawk of protest.

**bestfriendsforeverlivinghappilyeverafterstagram**

But then he's not quite sure which filter to use and decides to save it for later deliberation.

**Author's Note:**

> (and then a zirry centric OT5 porny epilogue obvsly)
> 
> The title is from Sunshine Superman, a Donovan song.


End file.
